


where we've been, what we know, will never go away

by matty_macgregor



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Unrequited Feelings, One-Sided Sylvix, felix is trying to be nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27900343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matty_macgregor/pseuds/matty_macgregor
Summary: In which Felix offers to comb a lion's mane.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	where we've been, what we know, will never go away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salted_shinju](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salted_shinju/gifts).



> Thank you for choosing to read this short one-shot! I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Keep in mind while reading that nobody proofread this and that English is not my first language.

Although he had suspected it would end this way, he still jumped at the loud crashing noise that came from the washing room. Two startled yells erupted next, then a growl not dissimilar to that of an animal. Water sluiced from under the door, looking grimy.

Felix groaned—what had they been thinking, anyway? He restrained himself from unsheathing his sword. The door burst open and two terrified maids hurried out. Both were drenched in bath water and didn’t look behind them once as they fled down the corridor. Steam and the smells of cheap tallow soap wafted from the bathing room.

He would have walked away too if not for the fact that Sylvain was in there. Suddenly, Felix’s heart thumped with worry. They shouldn’t have left Sylvain alone with that beast. That had been stupid, but then again, Sylvain was the only one amongst them who might have a chance to physically overpower the Boar.

Felix resisted the urge to grab his sword. Instead, he cautiously walked into the bathing room. There was half an inch of water on the floor from the overturned bath. The copper contraption lied on its side amidst a growing puddle. Beside it were sticks of soap, a fallen candle, and a few soggy towels. Steam made the air hot and hazy. Other candles burned, not quite managing to dispel the evening gloom. One shutter had mercifully been left open.

The growling sound coming to his left attracted Felix’s attention. His stomach twisted into tight knots of terror when he saw Dimitri leaning over Sylvain, both hands wrapped around his neck. He was baring his teeth in a snarl that looked barely human. His blond hair was soaked and plastered to his skin. He was as naked as the day he had been born, the candlelight turning his scarred skin a golden colour.

Felix didn’t hesitate: he marched to Dimitri and seized a hold of his hair. His fingers sank into tangled locks, twisted for a firm grip, and heaved. Dimitri roared with surprise and pain as Felix tugged at his hair to pull him off Sylvain. Dimitri whirled on him then, jumping to his feet and fists closing into the front of his tunic. Before he had time to blink, he was slammed into the nearest wall. Pain exploded at the back of his skull. His vision blackened around the edges, but he fought to remain alert.

Dimitri loomed over him, teeth bared and one-good eye shining with madness. There was spittle on his lips, some of it dribbling down his chin. He wasn’t wearing his eyepatch, which left the mangled remains of his right eye visible.

Out the corner of his eye, from behind Dimitri’s hulking form, Felix spotted Sylvain getting to his feet. Felix subtly raised a hand, commanding him not to move—Dimitri wasn’t trying to hurt him, he took confidence in that. He could have gone for his throat, but he’d instead chosen to grab for his clothes.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Felix asked. He was amazed at how calm he managed to sound. He hardly sounded breathless despite the fact that he could barely take in a full breath. He kept his gaze locked with Dimitri’s. “What did those maids do to you for you to scare them shitless like that?”

He deliberately chose to mention the maids instead of Sylvain—he refused to believe that the Boar, even in his madness, would choose to hurt innocent bystanders. Before he’d gone soft in the head, Dimitri had always been kind to a fault to his staff. They’d been his friends, not servants, much to many noblemen’s dismay.

Holding his breath, he watched as his words sank in. Dimitri’s lips trembled. His eyelid twitched. There was a spasm in his right cheek. His fingers in Felix’s tunic tightened before relaxing the tiniest bit.

Despite that, fear still lurked at the back of Felix’s mind. Seen from up close, Dimitri seemed so huge. The way he loomed made him look like an entire person differently, more beast using his size to overpower than man. Felix stood on his tiptoes, his neck uncomfortably craned so as not to get strangled by the collar of his tunic. He kept his hands well away from his body in case Dimitri thought he was trying to reach his sword. The back of his head hurt like hell where he’d slammed it against the wall.

“And?” Felix spat. “What do you have to say for yourself? They were just trying to help you with your bath. You stink, Boar. And you, instead of being grateful, you just go crazy on them? Do you know how long it took them to warm that water and bring it up here? Is that how you thank them, by spilling every last drop of it on the floor? Who do you think will mop up your damn mess?”

Dimitri huffed out a breath. For a moment, Felix thought his words would not move him. Every one of his muscles remained taunt with tension. His features remained frozen in that snarling mask.

Then, a shiver ran through his body. Dimitri’s shoulders sagged. His hands dropped from Felix’s tunic, effectively letting him go. He stood there like a great wet wolf, water dripping down him. He hung his head, his hair falling in tangles to hide his face.

Felix didn’t move. He readjusted his tunic, glad for the lack of shaking in his hands.

“What brought this on?” Felix demanded.

Sylvain spoke up—he’d unobtrusively moved closer, probably ready to intervene should Dimitri have not let go of Felix. “I tried brushing his hair.” As if to prove this, he held up a hairbrush.

He looked so bloody ridiculous that Felix could probably have laughed. There was Sylvain soaked to the skin, orange hair dripping, face flushed from nearly getting strangled, angry red marks around his neck, brandishing a hairbrush—probably a woman’s hairbrush, judging by the ornate curlicues that had been carved into the white wood of its handle. He’d dressed down to his trousers and tunic, and despite everything, managed to look amused by the situation. Felix wanted to punch him nearly as much as he wanted to kiss him.

He returned his attention to Dimitri. “So you threw a tantrum because Sylvain tried to help?” When there was no answer, he added: “My father’s coming on the morrow. Do you really want to look like a bedraggled mutt when he arrives?”

The mention of Duke Rodrigue seemed to wake Dimitri from his torpor. He raised his head, anxiety pulling at his features. “Duke Rodrigue is coming…?”

“Well, yes,” Felix said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you think would happen when he learned you were still alive?”

Dimitri said nothing. The candlelight played on his face, obscuring half of it and making his good eye glitter sinisterly. For some reason, it made his teeth look sharp. He kept glancing to one side of the room like he was looking for someone. Felix refused to follow the direction of his gaze despite the shiver of unease that ran down his back.

Felix extended his hand towards Sylvain. “Give me the hairbrush. I’ll finish with him.”

The hesitation in Sylvain’s demeanour told Felix how uneasy he was about this. Despite that, he gave the brush to Felix, depositing it in his open palm like an offering. “As you wish.”

“You won’t give me any trouble, won’t you, Boar?” Felix asked pointedly. “You don’t want your second father to see you this bedraggled, don’t you?”

“No…” Dimitri breathed out, sounding uncertain.

Felix supposed he didn’t give a shit about his appearance or his smell. From what he’d gathered through mumbles and shouts and half-assed explanations, Dimitri had been living on the fringes of society for the past five years. Bathing had to have been the least of his worries. Giving how he still growled at anyone suggesting they do anything but hunt the new emperor, he still probably didn’t give a damn about it. But Mercedes and Annette had suggested getting him to clean up a little might be a good idea, and everybody else had gone along with it. The Boar might still have many screws loose, at least he no longer smelled like an overripe sewer.

Sylvain took the hint and departed quietly. He’d no doubt linger nearby, ready to intervene. Felix couldn’t deny the warmth that spread in his chest at that idea. He knew he could hold his own, but he was also smart enough to know he was physically outmatched. Dimitri had that inhuman strength to fall back on and his peculiar madness seemed to make him even stronger. He could snap Felix’s neck without breaking a sweat before Sylvain even thought to help.

This had to be how hunters being cornered by a bear felt, Felix reflected. He’d been cornered by a small wolf once, when he’d been younger. The wolf had been hungry after a long winter and desperate for food. Felix remembered watching its approach, its lean body full of matted fur, thinking that his only way to survive was not to show fear. The rest of the hunting party’s arrival had saved him, but he’d never forget the desperation he’d felt then.

Could he reason with Dimitri, he wondered? Did Dimitri even want to be reasoned with?

A gust a wind whooshed into the bathing room. Dimitri shivered the way any other naked human would, and this broke the spell. This was Dimitri standing there, not a wolf. Felix refused to believe that nothing of his old friend remained behind that glassy eye. He swallowed down his fear, pushing it as deep as possible. Animals smelled fear, after all.

“If I finish what Sylvain started,” Felix began slowly, “will you just go crazy and try strangling me too?”

Dimitri blinked, eye focusing somewhat. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“Ah, but you did hurt him. You had your hands wrapped around his neck.”

Something loosely resembling shame passed over Dimitri’s features. “Oh.”

“Yes, _oh_. Don’t do that again. Sylvain’s a good guy. He wants to help you, the moron.” Felix shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s get you presentable or my father won’t let me hear the end of it.”

He found courage in action. The first thing he did was retrieve the sole towel that was still relatively dry. He extended it to Dimitri, who just stared at it uncomprehendingly. “Don’t make me do it,” Felix hissed between gritted teeth. “I’m not touching you. Dry yourself before you catch your damn death.”

Slowly, Dimitri took the proffered towel. Awkwardly, as if he’d never done that before, he patted his skin dry. Felix turned away, not wanting to look at his naked body. Instead, he set about righting the bathtub. He threw the wet towels into it alongside the ruined bars of soap. The floor was a mess, but there was no mop around to be had. He put the low stool back on its legs and, lastly, pulled open the other shutters so the steam would escape. Cool winter air greeted his hot face. He took in a deep breath before returning his attention to Dimitri.

The man stood there, looking down at the wet piece of linen hanging from his fingers.

“Sit,” Felix ordered. He kicked the stool in his direction. “You’re as useless as a damn child, Boar.”

Dimitri stared at the stool, then at Felix. Felix stared back defiantly. He couldn’t read the other man’s face, couldn’t begin to guess at what might be going through his mind. It was like a man he had never met stood in front of him. That person hardly looked like Dimitri—everything was subtly wrong, from the shade of his hair to the tautness of his posture. No matter how hard Felix peered at him, seeing his childhood friend in this wreck of a human being was nearly impossible.

Dimitri sat suddenly, and Felix was glad of it. If he hadn’t, Felix would have just walked away. He didn’t have the energy nor the will to take care of that huge child. Old friend or not, king or not, Felix wanted to have as little as possible to do with Dimitri. The only reason he went along now was because the others had started it. He didn’t want to see either Mercedes or Annette disappointed or, heavens forbid, see them trying to take matters into their own hands.

He cautiously approached the stool. Dimitri sat with his shoulders hunched, hands open on his lap. He didn’t seem to realise that he was still naked, nearly every inch of him bared to Felix’s gaze. Five years ago, he wouldn’t have been caught dead without his shirt laced up to his throat. He wouldn’t have been caught dead not properly groomed without a hair out of place. The wilderness had cured him of his shyness.

Felix held up the hairbrush. “I’ll try fixing that bird’s nest atop your head. It looks tangled, so it might pull. Don’t tear me apart for it.”

The corner of Dimitri’s mouth quirked up. For a terrifying second, he looked so much like his old self that Felix’s breath caught in his throat. The look he gave him seemed to say _Please, Felix, don’t coddle me_. Then, his wary expression returned, ruining the image. Felix was left breathless by it.

Keeping his movements unthreatening, Felix rounded around Dimitri until he stood behind him. Somehow, no longer seeing his face made it worse. What the fuck was he thinking, trying to comb that bastard’s hair? It was like trying to untangle the mane of a wild horse. Dimitri would kill him the second the fancy took him. He wasn’t the meek prince Felix had grown up with. He was a monster now, a beast, hardly a human being.

Only pride kept Felix from changing his mind. He swallowed once, then stepped closer. He hated how he noticed the long scars running the length of Dimitri’s bent back. Some were thin, others thick and jagged. One burn scar covered the point of his shoulder. There were others crisscrossing his arms too. Felix could tell some had healed badly and had to still be tender. He didn’t want to imagine it, Dimitri living in the forest, getting stabbed and fixing the wound up with a bit of river water and a length of dirty cloth. He didn’t like this image. It didn’t fit the prince he used to know. It was, well, sad.

Very slowly, positioning his feet so he’d be able to jump back at a moment’s notice, Felix reached for Dimitri’s hair with his left hand. His fingertip brushed one strand. His muscles bunched out of reflex, ready to move away. A small shiver shook Dimitri’s frame, but nothing more. He didn’t tense more than he already were. Felix fought to keep his breathing even, not to let the monster know how unnerved he was. His heart hammered inside his chest. He kept wondering why he was here, why he was doing that. Who cared what Dimitri looked like, who cared what Duke Rodrigue thought when he saw him after those five long years. Felix didn’t give a damn that his father would rebuke him for not taking better care of his king. No, he was doing it for their classmates; for Annette and Mercedes and Ashe, who needed the courage Dimitri’s presence offered. He was doing it for Sylvain who had thought this was necessary.

“Keep still, now,” Felix said, throat tight. If a hushed voice could calm skittish horses, perhaps it could also tame beasts.

He grabbed a thick lock of blond hair and very carefully, very slowly ran the hairbrush through it. Immediately, the bristles caught in a knot. Felix froze, not wanting to tug on it in case it angered Dimitri.

“What a mess,” he continued in the same breathless voice. He tugged on the knot, hoping to untangle it with minimal pain. He noted in passing how damaged Dimitri’s hair was. The ends were split badly, as if he’d hacked at it with a knife rather than using scissors. Felix supposed it had grown longer at some point, and Dimitri had just given himself a haircut with a blade. “It’ll take hours to undo.”

“Why bother,” Dimitri spat. “It’s just hair.” There was a bit of venom in his tone, a lot of lassitude too. His shoulders remained tensed, slightly raised like he couldn’t really trust someone wouldn’t stab a sword in his back.

Felix decided it was time to use his next weapon. It was a double-edged weapon, this one. It would lacerate Dimitri as much as it lacerated him. He braced for it, then said: “Do you remember what Glenn used to tell us?” Dimitri’s tensed at Glenn’s name, but Felix continued as if he hadn’t noticed: “’Cleanliness is next to godliness’. He’d tell us that when we didn’t want to bathe before bed. Glenn’s dead, but that doesn’t mean his words are less true.” Felix angrily ran the brush through Dimitri’s hair, barely being careful now. “You claim to talk to him. Ask him if I’m right. Ask him if he’d prefer his prince to be a smelly wild boar.”

The words seemed to echo in the empty chamber. Water dripped from somewhere. Outside, the wind blew. One of the shutters, not properly latched, seemed to tremble in the breeze. The rest of the monastery was utterly quiet, like every one of its inhabitants held its breath for this moment. Felix didn’t pause in his movements. He ran the brush through Dimitri’s once fine hair, untangling it with practiced ease. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he couldn’t help wondering if that was how he was going to die: with his feet in a puddle of water and a hairbrush in his hand.

Dimitri didn’t answer for the longest time. By the time he did, his hair was fully untangled and nearly dry. “Bathe, he says, as if it’s going to change anything.”

Felix didn’t know whether the sarcastic tone was directed at him or at his phantom of Glenn. He snorted. “It doesn’t change anything, but it does feel good. At least your wounds are clean now.” He took a step back to admire his handiwork. Dimitri’s hair fell to the base of his skull in a clean, blond drape. The ends were uneven, choppy, but at least it was clean. “Good. Get up. Pull on some clothes. Sleep. On the morrow, my father will straighten you up.”

Dimitri turned to glance at him over his shoulder. His blue eye was hard to read. His features were different however, perhaps a bit more relaxed. “Thanks. Don’t do that again.”

Felix threw the hairbrush to the floor. It clattered noisily on the wet cobblestones. A piece of it cracked and flew off. “Don’t fucking dare touching Sylvain next time, then.”

“It’s a deal.” Dimitri turned to face forward again. “I apologize. About him. I did not mean to hurt him.”

The trouble was that Felix couldn’t tell whether Dimitri was sincere or not. “If that’s true, then you won’t do it again. I’m off to bed, then.”

“With him?”

Felix froze as he was turning to leave. Had that been… a point of humour in Dimitri’s voice? Felix’s face flushed—he should never have admitted his crush on Sylvain to Dimitri all those years ago. Damn it, why hearing Dimitri say something so normal made him feel so odd?

“Certainly not,” he snapped, then left.


End file.
